


Refracted Light

by saltslimes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, It is, M/M, and i cannot let him down, even if i am at my friends human birfday party, heatstroke, prom's birthday, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 05:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16423430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltslimes/pseuds/saltslimes
Summary: It's normal, certainly, to work three summer jobs, and have no AC in your house. Normal and safe.





	Refracted Light

**Author's Note:**

> it's prompto's birthday and I said I would finish this and I have like 9 minutes for that to b tru

Admittedly, cold also makes Noct want to sleep. But he has more of an excuse during the summer holiday. When the air is thick and the gardens are unbearable, it’s nice to hole up in his cool room under a thin sheet and just drift.

He’s a few days into the week when he finally starts to get bored and stir-crazy, and invites Prompto over. He expects the same response he usually gets. But that's not what Prom sends.

NOCTIS: u wanna come over and slam some king’s nite?

BLONDIE: srry, too busy this week!

Busy with what, he thinks. But Prompto has other friends, presumably. He has shit on. He has a part time job, Noct knows that, because he’s not a prince. And he has… a family. Maybe aunts and uncles and cousins. Probably he has all kinds of summer plans that Noct can’t infringe on. So that’s… fine. He hits up Gladio for training more than he was planning to. He convinces Ignis to take him to the movies although he’s well aware that he hates it.

The heat is a living thing. It turns the dirt at the sidewalk borders to sand, the grass into dry straw, and the roads into shimmering tracks of heat haze.

He and Gladio sweat even in the air conditioned training rooms. They sit on the benches and chug water like it’s the difference between life and death.

“You know my dad was trying to get me to help him with landscaping today? Why’s he even care what the yard looks like?” Gladio screwed the cap onto his water bottle and cracked his neck. Noct shrugged.

“Can’t relate.”

“Yeah yeah, you’ve never touched a dirt in your princely life. You’re making me almost have enough energy to go round three.”

“Uhh, I mean, Ignis makes me clean all the time, and also weren’t you meeting Iris?”

“You’re getting off easy this time,” Gladio says, and scrubs a hand through Noct’s hair. A real bastard move. He knows the gel is at its weakest after working out. Noctis swats him away and he cackles with laughter.

When he heads back to his apartment, he texts Prom again. He waits five minutes with no response and then decides to actually look over the stack of papers Ignis very pointedly left on the kitchen counter with a post-it note pointing to them, and also Noctis’ name on them.

When he finally does get a response, it’s hours later.

BLONDIE: srry, got caught up with stuff!

He makes no mention of what “stuff” might be. Noctis shoves his phone under his pillow and falls asleep pissed.

-{F}{F}{X}{V}-

Iris’ punch doesn’t hurt, per se, but it  _ is  _ kind of annoying.

“Can you knock it off?”

“We gotta get burgers or I’ll literally dieeee.” She slumps down in her seat with her tongue out in some impression of a corpse. Gladio snorts.

“Fine. If it’ll shut you up.”

“It will! You’re the best!” Iris claps her hands. Gladio decides not to point out that she is pretty much doing the opposite of shutting up. There isn’t much of a lineup when he pulls up to the drive-thru window. Too hot to be out, honestly. Rolling down the window feels like admitting defeat and letting hell in.

Gladio is almost surprised no plastic part of the menu screen was melting. So he’s expecting the cashier to look like they’re feeling the heat when he gets up there. He isn’t expecting said cashier to be Prompto.

“Oh my gosh! Prom?” Iris says, leaning over.

“Whoa, hey guys. Uh, two number six combos, right? No pickles.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know you worked here,” Gladio says. But Noctis had mentioned Prompto had a summer job, and this is pretty much the only job kids his age were getting. Prompto’s face is flushed with embarrassment. Probably has something to do with the cute little visor he’s wearing. Gladio hands over the cash and Prompto trades him out the bag of food and then his change.

“Have a, uh, burger-tastic day,” he says, half caving-in to a laugh.

“You have one yourself,” Gladio says. Iris giggles.

“It’s so cool we ran into Prompto,” she says, as Gladio is pulling back onto the road. “I hope he’s not too hot, it must suck being stuck in the window all day.”

“He probably only works a few hours a week, I’m sure he’s fine,” Gladio says. Iris nods. 

-{F}{F}{X}{V}-

Prompto doesn’t particularly like working closing shifts. It’s good on the one hand, because he gets to take home the old bagels which are supposed to get thrown out, and the last few hours are usually pretty chill, but it makes him tired as hell the next day. 

And that’s fine, mostly, because he doesn’t have school, but there’s something distinctly  _ precarious  _ about running on two hours of sleep while operating an electric hedge-trimmer. It’s not that dangerous but he wouldn’t call it safe either.

But landscaping, as shitty and tiring and back-breaking as it is, pays a little above minimum, and he seriously needs the extra money. As if the tuition hike wasn’t bad enough, his parents have been ignoring his texts for over a month. They’re still sending money but… not enough to cover the increase in the electric and phone bills. At the moment, between the landscaping work and the burger place he can just handle it all. It leaves him with zero dollars a month for food.

Which is mostly fine! He only needs to pick up one of two shifts passing out flyers, and the lady who runs the flyer team is very chill. She lets him pick whatever hours he wants and often gives him a good corner.

But the heatwave is inescapable. 

-{F}{F}{X}{V}-

Ignis probably knows Noct better than he knows himself, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell he’s pissed off. Kicking the wall on his way in, kicking his shoes off, jabbing the buttons on the TV remote with unnecessary harshness. Ignis runs the vacuum through the house with no regard for Noctis, as if he isn’t even present. The antidote to a sulk like this is to bring the problem to the surface, like drawing pus from below the skin.

“Specs can you--” Noct cuts himself off. Ignis shuts off the vacuum and leans against the counter. He waits. Noct says nothing. He raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve found that not talking about my problems rarely fixes them,” he says. Noctis huffs. He chucks his phone into the couch cushions.

“Prom’s ignoring me. And I have no idea what he’s even pissed about.”

“Have you considered that he might not be pissed?” Ignis starts wrapping up the cord to the vacuum. Noct’s eyebrows draw together, and mercy, his look of confusion has not changed since he was eight years old.

“But he--I mean. It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t want to see me.”

“Obvious from what?”

“He’s been blowing me off the last two weeks.”

“Noctis, you’re fairly old for this lesson, but it helps to talk to people when you have an issue with them.”

Noct purses his lips. He’s still a teenager, and even though there’s only a few years between them, Ignis sometimes feels like he’s far, far older. This is going to end one of two ways: Noctis’ bedroom door slamming or him actually talking to Prompto. He opens his mouth to bolster his argument but Noctis sighs and slumps into the couch cushions. And then he reaches for his phone. Ignis carries the vacuum to the closet and pauses after putting it away. His protectiveness for Noctis is… in this case it’s probably a little childish. But he still thumbs through his contacts until he finds Prompto Argentum and types out a short message. No need to be rude. But he does remind Prompto that ideally, if he wants to be Noctis’ friend, he should make time for him.

He comes back into the kitchen and starts taking dishes out of the dishwasher. Noct is on his phone. Ignis declines to comment. Later he’ll act like it was Noct’s idea.

Before he’s replacing the dish towels Noctis is in the entryway pulling his boots back on.

“I’m going out for a bit,” he calls.

“Have a nice time,” Ignis replies mildly. Noctis slams the door, but presumably out of habit and not anger.

-{F}{F}{X}{V}-

The heat is a living thing. It chokes Noctis the instant he steps outside his building. It’s so hot he can smell the asphalt baking.

But it’s a short walk down to the park where Prompto agreed to meet him—he said it was close to his job but it’s nowhere near the burger place. He can’t imagine why Prom would lie though.

But then again, lately he feels like he can’t imagine Prompto. Feels like they’re on even more divergent paths than they’ve always been. Maybe the excitement of making friends with a royal has worn off. Maybe under the sheen Noctis is just charcoal.

He gets there first. The meeting point is at the bench where they took pictures after school that one day. When they barely knew each other. Prompto didn’t hesitate before dropping to the ground for a better angle. It felt a little bit like playing with a puppy. Noctis left knowing he wanted to see Prompto again. Next to certain that Prompto wanted to see him—see Noct, that is—not the prince.

He drums his fingers on his knees and checks his phone. Prompto hasn’t texted. But he said he would be there soon, and Prompto pretty much doesn’t lie. Not that Noct has ever seen.

It’s only a few minutes before he sees him jogging up the path. He looks more pink than Noct has even seen. No, he looks more pink than anyone Noct’s ever seen. The tips of his ears are blood-red. But when he gets there, breathless, he’s not even sweating.

Noctis tried to remind himself to be civil. How would Iggy handle a situation like this? Well, diplomatically. So he straightens his shoulders to royal posture as Prompto arrives at the bench.

“Hey,” Prom gets out. Noctis nods.

“So, you finally got a moment free?” Well there goes being civil. “Or have you just been making time for better friends?” And that’s below the belt, he knows that. He’s still startled somehow when Prom’s mouth falls open.

“I—I haven’t,” he starts, but there is useless, ugly anger bubbling up and Noctis is seemingly powerless to stop it.

“Right, I mean, it’s summer, obviously you have better shit to do than play video games with me.” He can’t look Prompto in the eyes. He doesn’t even try.

“I’ve been working… I’m sorry,” Prom mumbles, and Noctis’ head snaps up, he doesn’t even take in his expression before words are falling out of his mouth.

“What, every day?”

Prompto opens his mouth and then closes it again.  _ Yeah, of course not _ , Noctis thinks.

Then Prompto grabs the front of his shirt, and before he can say anything or even take a step, his grip goes lax and he slumps into Noctis.

“Shit!” He exclaims, and grabs Prompto’s arms on instinct. It’s like touching pavement. His skin is dry but it feels like the bottom of a hot pan. Noctis recoils and almost drops him, but Prompto slumps boneless and he grabs onto his shirt to keep him up.

“What—are you okay?” Noctis gets out. 

“Yup, fine,” Prompto immediately responds, although he gives no indication of being fine. His fingers are clenched in Noct’s shirt, and fuck, he’s seriously radiating heat.

“Are you—were you seriously working this whole time?” Noctis manoeuvres Prompto onto the bench, and he slumps as if drunk, melts into the bench and struggles to keep his eyes open.

“S’just because of the rent hike,” Prompto mumbles. Noctis doesn’t know how to respond to that. They sit side by side on the bench for a few minutes. Prompto lets out a huff, almost a laugh. “There’s bugs all over,” he says. Noctis looks down at the bare sidewalk. He presses his fingers into Prompto’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Then he calls Ignis, who picks up on the second ring as always.

“The rent hike?” He tries, after he’s ended his call. Prompto nods. Then he claps a hand over his mouth. Doubles over and retches onto the pavement between his knees. Noct is useless at his side—he rubs his back and waits and listens hard for a text from Ignis.

Prompto nods but he seems barely conscious, half-present at best. 

“Yeah, I tried to tell mom and dad but they’re… you know.”

“Um, I definitely don’t.”

“Busy. You know,” Prompto says, as if it’s nothing, as if it explains anything. And then he leans forward again and pukes onto the sidewalk. Noct checks his phone again, and as he’s pulling it out, the text from Ignis pops up.

“You okay to make it to the car?” Noctis asks.

“What car?” Prompto says. “I’m supposed to be… I have a shift.” He gags on that last word.

“Didn’t you come from work?”

“Yeah but I—I have a shift. I need to…” he spits onto the pavement and the saliva is thick, it hangs from his lips. Ignis texts again. It’s to say he’s parked the car. Noctis is bewildered. He doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know what to do. And he can’t calm down until Ignis is there in front of them, touching a hand to Prom’s scalding forehead, looking to Noctis with his mouth half-twisted.

“Let’s get him to the car,” he says.

In the car Ignis turns up the air. He glances into the back where Prompto is slumped against the window, and Noctis clenches his hands in his lap.

“Prompto, does your house have air conditioning?” Ignis asks. Prompto shakes his head weakly.

“He’s shaking his head,” Noct supplies.

“How many consecutive hours have you been working?”

“Frngh. Seven?” Prompto slurs, but it’s fully a question, and he has a hand pressed to his mouth again.

“How many outside?” Ignis asks.

“Huh? All of them?” Prompto says. No wonder he’s so red. Holy shit, no wonder he’s not sweating. Noctis sucks in a breath that feels like broken glass, and Prompto just wilts further into the window.

They take the elevator up, even though Noct lives on second. Ignis turns the air up and Noctis lays Prompto down on the couch. He’s crying. There are no tears, he’s dry for tears. Noctis doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t even know if he can touch him.

But it’s Prom who reaches out to him. His hand finds Noct’s, and he holds on as if for dear life. Ignis blazes into action; fluids, a cool towel, organizing Noctis to get a change of clothes. After an hour or two of being still on the couch, Prompto starts to look more like his human self.

“How many jobs do you have dude?” he asks, when Prompto cracks an eye open.

“Just three,” he says. Just. As if three is like, nothing. Noctis chokes on his own spit. He has to go out into the bathroom but he can’t make eye-contact with his reflection. He’s drawn back into the living room, drawn back to Prompto’s side.

“Fuck dude,” he whispers, when he’s sure Ignis is out of earshot.

“M’sorry,” Prompto says. There would be tear-tracks on his face, if he had any tears to cry. But Prom reaches for him, desperate, searching, like Noctis is the only anchor he can hold onto in an endless sea. And Noctis holds him, tries to steady him if he can steady anything.

Maybe they get steady. To Noctis it seems impossible to tell. But he keeps hanging on. He hangs on as if his life depends on it.

**Author's Note:**

> if you know an h/c trope I havent written go ahead and message me on tumblr dot org or wherever because tbh i'm out of ideas


End file.
